


Crumpled

by surefireshore



Series: SurefireShore's Writuary 2020 [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: 19th Century, Subterfuge, political scheming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:54:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22109914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surefireshore/pseuds/surefireshore
Summary: The beginning of a very long story(Scarlet Pimpernel-esque shenanigans involving the receipt of a note)
Series: SurefireShore's Writuary 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1589320
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1
Collections: Writuary 2020





	Crumpled

A thin slip of paper had passed from hand to hand to hand throughout the quadrille. She knew not exactly who passed it to her, nor did that stranger know who had passed it to them. In one second, she had felt a silk glove fold the crumpled paper into her hand. The next second she had moved on to the next set of steps.

It always happened this way. In the week leading up to the event, society members receive notice of whom to which they should pass the note. The name would be someone they already knew was involved, though the receiver might not know about the involvement of the giver. Although each person involved knew no more than a handful of other participants, there was seemingly no pattern in the order of the names they received. By these means and many others, their society was able to maintain the discretion they needed to operate. This time, her notice had simply read, “For you.” 

It had knocked the breath out of her.

By the time the crumpled paper had reached her in the quadrille, it had changed hands so much the ink was faded and smeared. Perhaps some of the illegibility, as she stood in a secluded corner attempting to read, could be attributed to the sweat she had inadvertently rubbed into the note. For nearly half an hour, she had clutched it tight in her fist, until she finally had a chance to break away from the crowd.

Now, in a quiet anteroom, by the light of the moon, she stands breathless again. She steps further into the light and squints at the words.

“Meet me. 12:30. Library.”

**Author's Note:**

> anyhoo the silk glove belonged to a high ranking lady and eventually they fall in love this story is secretly about 19th century wlw revolutionaries what did you really expect from me
> 
> unfortunately she is not the one who wrote the note
> 
> no they don't have names you ask too much of me  
no i also don't know how ink works


End file.
